Page 21 of The Masked Princess

“Your Highness, your people love you. Surely you know that,” Priscilla said.

Annalise leaned back in her chair for a moment as the carriage passed through the city gates, surprised at the softness in her maid’s tone.

“The Dovean court may be one thing—the people who hang around your father seem to be all too willing to accept his mercurial temperament and prejudices as if it were their own, but your kingdom’s people sing your praises far and wide. How many times have we received bouquets of wildflowers, or fresh farmers’ honey, or other gifts from your subjects?”

“I don’t see why. I’m poisonous. Dangerous to everyone around me. My father may have started calling himself the Serpent King, but everyone knows that I’m the real snake.”

“Perhaps you are, but you are also kind and loving and compassionate to anyone whose path you cross. It’s no wonder your father wants to get rid of you; if he were to lock you up any more, I fear there would be a revolt.”

“Revolt?” Annalise snorted. “The people can hardly feed themselves with the taxes levied on them to fund his court and keep his army strong despite the years of peace. I’ve been into town and seen their sunken eyes and thin faces; it takes energy to revolt, and they barely have energy to live.”

Her father had never liked her visits, but had fortunately never forbidden them. As long as she was willing to weather his bad temper for a few days, she could go. The warmth she felt seeing the faces of her fellow Doveans light up as she handed out food baskets, and the gratefulness of the guilds when she dropped off herbs and fabrics more than made up for a few evenings of extra iciness and cutting words from the king.

“Anger also gives people energy, as does hope.” Priscilla looked up from her embroidery and pinned Annalise with her dark eyes. “Forgive me if I speak out of turn, but this is something you must hear. Your presence gives them hope, Your Highness. If something happened to you, I think their anger would burn far brighter than you give them credit for. The castle is one thing, but your presence in Dovelan will be greatly missed. The people may fear your father, but they love you. I know you don’t want a war; none of us do, but your father would be a fool to not weigh the consequences of marrying you off to the Rhinneans versus keeping you here. Yes, your marriage will give King Nelan a path to the Dovean throne when aggression breaks out again, but if King Everet lets you stay here, your popularity will only grow, as will the people’s resentment of his mistreatment of you. As things are now, I fear for your safety. If something happens to you, it may be like a spark on dry kindling, a fire to direct toward whoever was at fault, and never forget that fire is a good weapon in war.”

Priscilla focused back on her embroidery and hummed, and Annalise didn’t make any further conversation, keeping her gaze on the crowd lining the country road as they exited the city gates. She was still on edge, but at least her hands had steadied as she waved. It felt odd knowing people cared about her. For so long, she’d assumed that beyond Priscilla, no one cared if she lived or died.

To think otherwise was nearly impossible.

CHAPTER 15

The road to Rhinnea was treacherous, but the company of soldiers was every bit as professional and polished as their gear, and Annalise had full trust Soren would keep her safe. They left Dovelan two weeks before the winter solstice and expected to take a full month to reach Rea, the capital city of the Rhinnean kingdom, leaving them two months and a few days to spare before the spring equinox.

After the second day of travel, Annalise yearned to ride a horse with the others instead of staying cooped up in the carriage. Before her mother’s illness, she and the queen would spend entire afternoons out riding. Her mother loved horses, and Annalise knew how to ride almost before she could walk. It was one thing she missed the most about her life before the curse—now the risk of injury was too great, with potentially disastrous consequences if someone was exposed to her blood, so she suffered in the cramped carriage in silence.

Several days into their trip, light snow fell, covering the evergreens in a white filigree and blanketing the road and fields in a coat of alabaster. Annalise took it as a good omen—a new start to the world, just like her journey was leading to a new start in her life.

When they camped at night, the soldiers pitched Annalise’s tent in the center of the camp with Soren’s just across from it. The inns were few and far between on the western side of Dovea, and Soren was adamant that it would be easier to keep Annalise safe amid their company of armed men than in a wooden building shared with strangers. Priscilla stayed in the same tent as Annalise and slept on a pallet beside Annalise’s cot.

The weather grew colder every day, and the two women spent most evenings huddled over a brazier as winter winds blew against the tent walls. Soren and his first lieutenant often ate the evening meal with them; First Lieutenant Rorarck was a bear of a man nearing his thirties who rarely smiled but was always quick to lend a helping hand. After the meal was over, Soren often told a story or two from his time on the sea before he and Lieutenant Rorarck left to check on the troops and retire for the evening.

Strangely enough, despite how much time he’d spent with her back in Dovelan, Annalise saw very little of Soren beyond their evening meals. He most often rode at the head of their group, too far directly in front to see him from the carriage.

A village sat at the base of the pass that led through the mountains to Rhinnea. There was an inn for travelers in the center of the village square, but Soren ignored it and led them all the way through town to where a Dovean garrison sat just inside the outer walls.

The main building of the garrison was two stories tall and made of hewn wood and stone. Several outbuildings surrounded it—Annalise guessed they were barracks and stables. After the carriage pulled to a stop outside the front entryway, one soldier opened the door, and Annalise was greeted by a middle-aged man dressed in a colonel’s uniform who introduced himself as Colonel Lennil. Up close, he was rather attractive, with hair the color of the night sky, dark brown eyes, and a weathered face that spoke of a lot of time outdoors.

Annalise introduced Colonel Lennil to Soren and then accepted his offer of a place for her and her men to eat and spend the night. Soren escorted her inside, following the colonel as Lieutenant Rorarck barked orders to the men behind them.

The chambers assigned to Annalise, while used for visiting high-ranking officials, were positively austere compared to her lodgings in Dovelan. However, after so many days spent traveling in a freezing carriage and a tent that never quite kept out the cold, the worn couch, wooden chairs, and bed felt like the height of luxury.

Priscilla ordered a bath, and once it was ready, Annalise reveled in the water’s warmth and scrubbed her skin clean. After bathing and washing her hair, she lay down on the straw mattress and thick woolen blankets for a nap, although it felt like she’d hardly closed her eyes before Priscilla was waking her to dress for dinner.

Just as they were about to leave Annalise’s chambers, a woman knocked at the door. By the lines on her face and the handful of small streaks of gray interspersed through her mousy brown hair, Annalise judged she was in her mid-forties. While she wore no jewels, she carried herself with a certain gravitas that spoke of landed gentry, if not nobility, and her slate gray dress fit her well and was stitched with a lovely intricate white embroidery. With a smile and a dip of a curtsy, the lady introduced herself as Amelia Lennil, wife to Colonel Lennil.

“It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Lennil. Is there a problem with dinner?” Annalise asked.

The lady stood with her hands folded in front of her, her brown eyes bright. “Not at all, Your Highness, and please call me Amelia. I just wanted to make your acquaintance away from the prying eyes of the dining hall. You see, I was a friend of your mother’s.”

At the mention of her mother, Annalise immediately invited Amelia into her chambers. Priscilla procured a plate of cakes and dried fruit from one of the small traveling chests, and they sat down to talk.

“You met my mother? Please tell me more about her. It’s been so many years since she passed, and I rarely get the chance to speak with anyone who knew her well,” Annalise said. “I wish I could have spent more time with her. It feels like I’d barely started to learn who she was as a person before she was taken from me.”

Amelia revealed that she’d been one of Queen Elvira’s assistant ladies-in-waiting, and that she’d loved the kind and compassionate queen. “Unfortunately, I didn’t serve her for very long—I married Colonel Lennil when you had just turned six, but your mother was a truly grand lady. I was a young, childless widow from a minor noble family when she accepted me into her circle and cared for me as if I came from one of the great Dovean houses, and when I later accepted Colonel Lennil’s proposal, she rejoiced and threw a party to celebrate the engagement. She was always so kind, even to those who didn’t deserve it. I don’t think anyone could have been a better queen,” she added.

“Hearing such glowing words about her is a treat. The court whispers are not nearly so kind,” Annalise said. Her time on the road must have loosened her tongue, and she regretted the words almost as soon as they left her mouth, but Amelia only smiled and dipped her head in acknowledgment of the things left unsaid.

“I’ve heard that King Everet’s court has begun to resemble the additional title he’s taken to calling himself—that of the Serpent King. Despite the… challenges of her marriage, I believe your mother played an integral role in keeping the drama and scheming of the court relatively stable. I can only imagine what the king’s proclivity for mistresses has done to the atmosphere. It must have been difficult for you to navigate the intrigue when you lost her, especially without help, if the rumors are to be believed.” Amelia nodded at Priscilla, who had taken their tête-à-tête as an opportunity to buzz around Annalise and add a few finishing touches to her outfit. “Is this your only lady’s maid?”